


all the king's horses and all the king's men

by AStrangeDaze (TerraRising)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BB Woojin 2.0, Child Abuse, Daehwi-centric, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, aged-down characters, but like way darker, woojin-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16585967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraRising/pseuds/AStrangeDaze
Summary: Daniel thought he had been prepared for it; he had training for what to do, how to react, the protocol and policy of how to report it.But it's different, he thinks, breath caught in his throat. It's different when it's someone you know.





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaosmyths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmyths/gifts).



> This is probably a bit heavy for a gift but I hope you'll accept it regardless.
> 
> Happy anniversary?

 

“….don’t have to stay.”

 

“I fell down the stairs,” Daniel hears a shaky voice assert as he slips past the curtains, careful to keep visibility to a minimum to ensure patient privacy, “There’s nothing to report.”

 

“Mrs. Choi…” Daniel watches as the physician on duty sighs.

 

The patient, a female that had her back to him, is tense enough that Daniel can see the tremours wracking her frame. He follows the doctor’s line of sight and zeros in on the vivid purple bruising around her neck as he rounds the gurney, the swollen ring of bruising in the clear formation of hands stands as a glaring contradiction to her statement.

 

Well, Daniel considers, heart clenching as he takes in the various other bruises and scrapes decorating the woman’s arms and legs - if she did fall down the stairs, someone had certainly helped her along the way.

 

“Dr. Jang, I brought the refill for the supplies,” he says quietly to announce his presence, carefully manoeuvring himself so that the patient could see him, arranging his posture to something professional and non-threatening.

 

The woman freezes before ducking her head while Dr. Jang nods, “Thank you. Mrs. Choi? I’m going to have our nurse here take over for me, he’s going to take care of those bruises and scrapes for you. After that, we’re going to need to set you up for an x-ray, is that okay?”

 

“I, I don’t need an x-ray,” the woman stammers, body tense, hands coming up to cover the sides of her neck, elbows drawn in tight to her body in a defensive position, “I’m fine. I should go, you said nothing was broken.”

 

“Mrs. Choi, while I don’t feel any breaks, I am worried that there may be hairline fractures along your ribs, the bruising around your abdomen is pretty significant,” Dr. Jang said, tone soothing as she removed her gloves and disposed of them in the nearby bin, “I’m not comfortable sending you home without confirming.”

 

“I,” she gulps, “I need to go. I need to pick up my children from school.”

 

“Mrs. Choi, please, you’re going to seriously hurt yourself if you run around with fractured ribs. It’s only two o’clock now, I’ll have our nurse here take you to get an x-ray as soon as he’s done wrapping your injuries, I promise you’ll be able to pick up your children on time,” she gestures for Daniel to step closer and he does so slowly, “Or would you prefer a female nurse?”

 

“I,” the patient hesitates before deflating, arms coming to cradle her ribs, “Okay.”

 

“Thank you,” Dr. Jang stood, stopping to lay a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, “Mrs. Choi, are you sure you don’t need help? If someone is giving you those injuries, we have staff here who can help you get the resources you need to be safe.”

 

“I don’t-, he didn’t,” she swallows before repeating herself robotically “I fell down the stairs. I just want to go pick up my children. Please.”

 

“Okay,” Dr. Jang rummaged through a drawer for a moment before handing the patient a card, “If you change your mind, here’s a number you can call, okay? For any help at all.”

 

The patient stared at the card as if it was going to come to life and bite her but Dr. Jang stood there patiently. “Any help at all. Think of your children,” she finally adds and the added prompt seems to do the trick, the woman accepts the small white rectangle with shaking hands.

 

“I, he, if he sees…”

 

“You can save the number into your phone under the hospital’s name, you don’t have to keep the card.”

 

“Okay,” she takes the card woodenly, still eyeing it as it if was something poisonous, “okay.”

 

“I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of our nurse here, Mrs. Choi. Please, take care of yourself.”

 

With those parting words Dr. Jang leaves with a nod to Daniel and he nods back before moving slowly to take the spot the physician had vacated. “Hi Mrs. Choi, my name is Daniel, I’m going to be taking care of you today.”

 

The woman tenses before her head whips up, face pale and then it’s Daniel’s turn to stare.

 

Underneath her make up, Daniel can see just the slightest hint of the motley of bruises lined her face where wrinkles had been worked into the skin before its time along her temple. There was a gash at her temple and more bruises decorating her left eye like a morbid sunset painting that even the strongest concealer couldn’t hide. And even so, her hair had been carefully combed and arranged to shield the world’s eyes from the worst of the damage. Her face is heart-shakingly familiar and it takes Daniel an extra moment to suspend his disbelief and place it.

 

“Dahee…”

 

Dahee laughs bitterly, “I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. But if it’s oppa……well, I guess it was fate.”

 

It takes a moment for Daniel to gather his wits back about him, to remember that he was here in a professional capacity even as he struggled to find the happy and seemingly indomitable Park Dahee in the worn and tired face in front of him. “I’m going to clean your wounds with an antiseptic and then bandage them, is that okay?” he chokes out, voice barely steady.

 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she sighs, “Oppa…don’t tell anyone, okay?”

 

“I, Dahee-ah, what happened?” he can’t help but ask.

 

Dahee was silent for a moment and Daniel doesn’t push, just methodically goes through the process of cleaning and bandaging her wounds after applying antiseptic and an antibiotic cream, keeping up a running stream of narration so that she knew where he was going to have to touch next and what he was doing.

 

“Oppa, do you think less of me? For ending up like this.”

 

Dahee’s question causes him to pause in his movements and Daniel shakes his head. “Never, I would never. Dahee-ah, is someone hurting you? Will you let me help you?”

 

She laughs, the sound tired and the saddest a laugh had ever had the misfortune of sounding, “Oppa, you’ve always been like this, wanting to fix everything, to help everyone. I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

 

“Dahee,” Daniel frowns, “Even if we’re no longer together that way, we are friends aren’t we?”

 

She smiled bitterly, lips twisted, “If you knew more, you wouldn’t consider me a friend at all.”

 

“Dahee…”

 

“Oppa, please, don’t ask anymore okay?”

 

“….ah.”

 

He finishes bandaging her arm silently, leading her through the hallways and towards the room with the x-ray. There are a thousand questions on his mind. Daniel wants to beg her to get help, wants to go hunt down the asshole who hit her, wants to know why she was still staying when the Dahee he knew was so different from this quietly beaten woman in front of him. But he didn’t know what led her here, he had no right to pry, she was right, and he had no right to judge or make assumptions. And as much as he wanted nothing but her safety, he couldn’t force her to call the police, to get help, or to leave the bastard, he could only pray that she would.

 

He can’t help but walk her to the entrance of the hospital after her ribs had been wrapped, Dr. Jang had indeed been correct about the hairline fractures, lingering at the exit and glad that his break was now.

 

“Dahee,” he calls out as she steps near the automatic doors, “will you let me give you my number? If you don’t want to call a stranger, if you ever need help. You know I’ll be here, right? You can call me any time, whatever you need. I’ll come. I’ll come, I promise.”

 

Dahee takes two steps forward as if she didn’t hear his plea and then backtracks. Turning, she hands him her phone and he takes it silently under the weight of her gaze, saving his number under a nickname he never thought he’d use again. Handing it back to Dahee, he wonders if he wants a call or not when the call would only mean she was in danger.

 

“Oppa.”

 

Those familiar eyes pin him down, still burning with a fire that he could remember even after all these years. For a moment the world falls away from around him, the hustle and bustle of the hospital fades, and all he can see is the image of that proud and determined young woman who wanted everything out of life, the young woman who fought tooth and nail to claw to the top of her field and would accept nothing less. He sees the woman he called a friend and once loved and can’t look away, takes in the quiet strength of those strong shoulder, battered but unbroken.

 

“Oppa, I don’t know if I’ll ever call you. But if I do…”

 

The burst of chattering pigeons that fly past, startled by children in the garden almost drowns out her next words but Daniel catches them and nods in solemn promise.

 

“Thank you, oppa. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

 

Dahee turns and then walks out, head held high and steps steady. She offers no explanation for her apology, only marches forward into the sunlight towards the bus stop and Daniel watches her go, something heavy in his stomach. Was it regret for not trying harder to persuade her? Was it discomfort knowing someone had brought her so low? Anger at the scum that laid hands on her and trapped her in this situation?

 

His pager beeps and then he has no time to think about it anymore, his break is over. Within minutes, the onslaught of patients being brought in from a bus crashing with a truck floods the emergency room, all medical personnel in the ER rushing to stabilize the patients.

 

By the time Daniel’s shift is over, he’s dead on his feet and passes out as soon as he gets home, forgoing a shower altogether and just collapsing on his couch. He wakes up hungry and feeling absolutely filthy, stumbling into the shower. There are leftovers in the fridge that he heats up in the microwave, still only half awake, shovelling the food into his mouth, barely even tasting it as he stares at his cell phone.

 

_Please let it ring._

 

 

_Please don’t let it ring._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He fiddles with his phone absently for days.

 

_Please, god, have her call if she needs help._

 

He checks over it obsessively during breaks, leaving it with front desk, explaining the situation in quiet tones and asking someone to make sure if Dahee called, they would page him immediately.

 

_Please don’t let it ring, please let her be safe._

 

He keeps it charged at all times, keeps it by his bedside, always within easy reach.

 

_Please, god, please let her call, let her reach out for help._

 

Days melt away into weeks.

 

_Please, I hope she never needs to call._

 

Weeks melt away into months and Daniel starts to breath a bit easier, starts to slowly put it out of mind, even just a little. Maybe she got help. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she left him already. He doesn’t know but time has a funny way or erasing things, or dulling urgency, and bit by bit the thought slips away from him.

 

He’s in the middle of his fourth date with a new potential boyfriend, a lawyer that caught his interest and then held it, someone with whom he wants to see where it might lead when his phone rings, an unknown number flashes across his display. He almost doesn’t pick up, not wanting to be rude, but then the _‘what ifs’_ jumps up and his hand clutches at the phone compulsively.

 

“Sorry,” Daniel looks up at Seongwoo apologetically, “Do you mind if I take this call?”

 

Seongwoo smiles good-naturedly and shakes his head, “Of course not. Were you waiting for an important call?”

 

“Ah…I hope it’s not who I think it is,” he jokes, tone just a little flat as he answers the call, “Hello?”

 

“I need help.”

 

The statement is whispered quietly into the phone, the voice high and shakey. But not Dahee’s, no, the voice is that of a child's and Daniel’s blood runs cold.

 

 

_Oppa, I don’t know if I’ll ever call you. But if I do, please take care of my children._

 

 

“Dahee,” he gasps out, chair clattering loudly to the floor behind him as Seongwoo stands as well, face knit in concern.

 

“Mommy’s not moving,” the child whispers, prepubescent voice high with terror, “I need help. Please.”

 

“Do you know your address? Can you tell me where you are?” he takes off towards the elevators at a run, jamming his finger against the button incessantly.

 

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns, eyes wild, irritation flashing at the interruption only to find Seongwoo wordlessly holding out pen and paper while his other hand tucks his wallet back into his pocket. Daniel accepts it, mouthing a thank you, jotting down the address quickly. Seongwoo ushers him towards the stairs, whispering into his left ear, “The elevator might cut off the signal, stay on the phone with them, we’re only two floors up. I’ll drive you.”

 

He nods wordlessly, letting Seongwoo guide him down the steps as he keeps up a stream of soft assurances. The two of them jog to the car and Daniel hands him the paper with the address, heart thudding.

 

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

 

“Woojin.”

 

“Okay Woojin, my name is Daniel. Did your mommy give you this number?”

 

“Mommy said to call if we need help. Please help,” the child whispers, sounding close to tears.

 

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in,” he looks at Seongwoo who mouths a number back at him as they peel out of the parking lot, “fifteen minutes. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, do you think you can be brave for me, Woojin? You’ve been so brave so far. Can you be brave for fifteen more minutes?”

 

“O-okay.”

 

“Good, good, that’s good. Woojin, are you safe right now?”

 

“I’m in the closet,” Woojin whispers, “Mommy told me to hide with Daehwi.”

 

“Okay, good, stay hidden, okay? Is Daehwi your brother? Can you tell me if you or Daehwi are hurt?”

 

“Daehwi’s my brother, but he’s little. We’re not hurt. I think _he_ went away. I can't hear him anymore.”

 

“Thank you, Woojin. I’m on my way. You’re going to be fine, everything is going to be fine. Tell me about yourself Woojin, how old are you?”

 

Woojin takes an uneven breath, “Six.”

 

He glances at Seongwoo as he coaxes Woojin to keep talking, adrenaline racing, and watches at the man steps on the gas, weaving through traffic while toeing the line of recklessness.

 

 

_God let them make it in time, please let them make it in time._

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of child abuse and domestic violence which some people may find unsettling, please read at your own discretion**

The door to the apartment snaps open with a sharp bang and Woojin’s eyes are immediately riveted to his homework, hand clenching his tiny stub of a pencil tightly. Daehwi who had been playing on the kitchen’s limonium flooring with his toy truck falls silent, tiny frame stiff.

 

It takes the four year old no time at all to shuffle under the kitchen table and huddle by Woojin’s dangling legs, forehead pressed against his older brother’s shins as he runs the toy truck up and down the table legs silently. Woojin holds his breath, ducks his head, and slips one hand underneath the table, reaching blindly towards his brother, waiting for the smaller hand to clamp around his fingers.

 

“Dahee! Dahee, you better have dinner ready on the table in five minutes or I swear to God,” the man stumbles through the living room in their little unit and into the kitchen, kicking one of the worn chairs out so that he can slump into it tiredly, already half-way to being drunk out of his mind.

 

Daehwi jumps a little under the table but makes no sound, just presses more closely against Woojin’s legs and farther away from where his father was sitting. Woojin squeezes his hand reassuringly, hands a little clammy, and diligently fills out his worksheet.

 

“What’cha working on, boy?” the man squints at him through the haze of alcohol and Woojin gulps, not looking up.

 

“Math, sir,” he whispers, carefully writing in his answer now that his left hand isn’t there to keep the paper from shifting, preoccupied by Daehwi as it was.

 

“Speak up boy,” the man sneers, “Were you raised by wolves, you brat? Look at me when I’m speaking to you!”

 

Woojin takes a deep breath and then slowly raises his head though he still refused to make eye contact, “I’m working on my math homework. Sir.”

 

“Oh _Math_ ,” that voice Woojin hates the most in the world sounds mocking, “Must be real important stuff, too important for you to even greet your elders properly, you shitty little brat. Stand up!”

 

Woojin stiffens at the barked order and immediately Daehwi’s hand squeezes his to the point of pain. He gets up slowly, head bowed, back ramrod straight but shoulders hunched and trembling. His heart thuds so loudly in his chest the man has to be able to hear it; he wants his mom, he wants his mom but she went to buy groceries and he was supposed to watch Daehwi like a proper older brother. Except he can’t because the man came back and he’s scared and Daehwi is scared too. And Woojin tries so hard to pretend he’s not scared but his hands are shaking, his knees are locked in place and he can’t move, and how is he supposed to be a good older brother like this?

 

“Back against the wall.”

 

Woojin’s breath hitches, Daehwi’s wide eyes stare back at him from under the table, the four year old clinging to a table leg, knuckles white. “Are you deaf, you dumb shit? I said get up against the fucking wall!” the man barks, and Woojin scurries towards The Wall.

 

“Hands,” the man commands, sounding bored even and Woojin bites his lip, offering his hands palm up as ordered.

 

He tries not to flinch at the sound of metal clinking, the sinuous rasp of leather being pulled free, but the man sees it and scoffs. “Stupid sissy boy, scared of a little pain? I’m raising you to be a proper man, brat! I gotta make sure the lesson sticks so you don’t run off on your woman when you’re older like your deadbeat pops did to your ma, you hear me? Teach you proper respect and responsibility. Now stop flinching and stand still!”

 

Woojin grits his teeth and forces his hands steady, back pressed against the wall, hoping the faded plaster could just open up and swallow him up, transport him somewhere else, anywhere else. The man grins, hands fiddling with the belt, “You know what to do, boy. Count to ten.”

 

 _Crack_.

 

The first blow lands before Woojin expects it to and he almost cries out, only the knowledge that crying out would earn him ten more strikes stops the sound from bursting out of his throat. His palms burn, the sensation a blaze in his system, white lightening hot as always. “One,” he croaks out, knowing silence was worse, eyes fixed to where Daehwi was huddled, trembling.

 

 _Don’t look_ , he tries to will, _don’t look._

 

 _Crack_.

 

“Two,” Woojin’s breath hitches and Daehwi ducks his head, hiding his face in his knees, legs drawn tightly into a fetal position.

 

_Crack._

 

“Three.”

 

The doorknob jiggles and then the front door opens.

 

_Crack._

 

“Mo-”

 

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

 

Woojin yelps at the rapidly successive whipping of his hands, the man hitting harder than he had before. “Woojin!” he can hear his mother’s scream, the sound of cans hitting the ground, “Get away from my son! Get away from him right now!”

 

The next lash never comes though he hears the cracking down loud and clear just as his mother’s arms wrap around him. She’s standing between them, face gritted with pain, eyes wrought with worry as she cups his face, thumbing desperately over his cheekbones where tears should have run.

 

“Get out of the way you stupid bitch!” the man spits, trying to rip his mother away from him, “Don’t think I won’t beat you silly instead if you don’t move!”

 

His mother shoves something hard and cold into his hands before gathering him close to whisper in his ear urgently. “Take your brother and hide. Call the number I told you about before, go!”

 

She’s cut off from saying anymore when a rough hand grabs her by the hair and _shakes her_ as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. She releases Woojin quickly, pushing him away from herself, mouthing the word “go” again before she fighting to free herself from the man’s grip.

 

Woojin wants to cry, wants to stay, wants the man to stop hurting his mother but he does as his mother says. He bolts around them and scurries until the kitchen table to collect his brother who’s still huddled underneath, terrified, pulling the four year old forcibly behind him. They stumble into the bedroom and Woojin yanks the closet doors open before lifting Daehwi and pushing him inside clumsily.

 

Outside he can hear yelling, can hear his mother screaming and the sound of chairs clattering noisily to the floor, the shattering of something glass and then - silence.

 

Woojin runs back to shut the door of the room, catching sight of his mother’s form crumpled on the floor, unmoving. He accidentally locks eyes with the man and then panics, slamming the door shut and then locking it, before dragging a dresser over painstakingly to block the door like his mother had showed him before. Woojin grips the phone his mother gave him in a death grip as he clambers into the closet beside his brother with some difficulty, pulling the doors shut behind him.

 

The screen of the phone is blinding as he unlocks it and punches in the number his mother made him remember weeks ago. It takes three rings for the phone to connect and then there’s a voice filtering through, “Hello?”

 

“I need help,” Woojin whispers, one shaking arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulders, tucking the four year old against his side.

 

The stranger gasps out his mother’s name and then asks where they are, asks if Woojin is safe. There’s an eerie quiet now and all Woojin can hear are Daehwi’s soft sniffles and the stranger’s voice in his ear. _Faster, faster_ , he prays, the seconds dragging by like an eternity, _come faster._

 

* * *

 

 

“Dahee!” Daniel calls as he pushes through the door to her apartment - he has no time to think about why it had been left ajar, just rushes inside, almost tripping on a stray slipper caught underfoot.

 

There is no answer and the reason why becomes apparent quickly. Dahee is slumped over on the floor, shards of broken crockery and a shattered beer bottle surround her. At the sight of the pool of blood around her head, everything in Daniel screams for him to ignore his training and skip straight to treating her, heedless of the hazards to himself.

 

 _Head wounds always bleed more,_ he tries to remind himself, _it looks worse than it is, it looks worse than it is._ He tugs his jacket off, wrapping it around his arm and then impatiently sweeping glass away enough so that he had a small area he could crouch on to examine her. Adrenaline rushing, blood pounding loudly in his ears, he reaches over to check her breathing and her pulse. It takes him seconds to confirm that she’s not breathing anymore, but her pulse is there still, faint as it is.

 

The relief he feels is palpable - she’s not dead, they can still save her!

 

“Seongwoo-ah,” Daniel calls out, not realizing he had spoken informally to the older man in his urgency, looking around wildly, “I need a towel or something, something clean, she’s bleeding too much, I-”

 

“I’ll go look,” the other man promises, hastily moving further into the apartment, glass crunching noisily under his feet, “the door is propped open for when the ambulance gets here.”

 

Daniel nods, clearing away more of the glass so he has room to turn Dahee onto her back. Seongwoo runs back moments later, a stack of towels he found in the bathroom cabinet clutched in his hands that he quickly passes to Daniel. Daniel murmurs a thank you and quickly presses one to the wound on her head - it’s not the best but it’ll have to do, if he doesn’t try to stop the bleeding first, she’ll bleed out before he manages to try and restart her breathing. Almost immediately the blood soaks through and he curses under his breath, pressing another towel on top as he tries to reposition her head to open up her airway and start giving her CPR. There's no way for him to secure the towels to her wound with the supplies he has, it leaves him with one hand moving awkwardly.

 

A cold hand lays itself over his and Daniel's head whips up. Seongwoo is kneeling gingerly in a tiny space between glass shard; his face is pale, brows furrowed as he gazes at Dahee, looking uneasy at the sight of all the blood but his hand is steady. "I'll keep the pressure over her wound," the older man says quietly, "You do what you need to do."

 

Daniel  flashes him a wan smile, glad for a second pair of hands - he had nearly forgotten that there was someone close by to help. "Thank you," he retracts his hands quickly, giving Seongwoo the rest of the towels as he gets to work, "Don't change the towel if it soaks through, just put another one over top and keep the pressure on to slow the bleeding."

 

He only waits for Seongwoo's nod before he bends to press his mouth to Dahee's to help her breathe twice and then moving on to start compressions. 

 

He isn't sure how long has passed when the paramedics finally arrive on scene and take over, he only knows that by then his arms and back are burning from the exertion and Dahee still isn't breathing, pulse slow. Seongwoo has been silently staying by his side the entire time, hands dyed red as he pressed towel after towel down over the head wound. They both stumble away, legs stiff and sore from their cramped position as the paramedics move in, Daniel sprouting off information to the closest paramedic who nods as they lift her onto a stretcher.

 

Daniel is about to rush out after her and follow them to the hospital when Seongwoo catches his arm, a solemn look on his face. "Daniel, the kids..." he trails off before looking to their left meaningfully and Daniel's heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

 

"Oh god," he whispers, looking around the apartment frantically before zeroing in on the door that Seongwoo was gazing at, "the kids."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This applies to the whole story but if it wasn't clear by now, chapters will be dealing with and touching on child abuse. This may trigger some people so please read at your own discretion._
> 
>  
> 
> _I will issue post warnings in the beginning notes of any chapter that has any content that is more graphic than mentions._

 

The Closet is dark and stuffy, but familiar.

 

Woojin doesn’t dare let the doors open more that the slightest crack to let some fresh air in, afraid Daehwi might suffocate with how hard he had been crying. His little brother was a dead weight curled against him now having cried himself into exhaustion but Woojin’s nerves are still live wires, muscles tensing at the slightest sound.Even now with nothing but the sound of his own breathing and Daehwi’s quiet snuffling, he has to work hard to supress the reflexive twitch when his brother stirs in the tight space to cuddle closer, Woojin the only anchor of safety and comfort here.

 

 _Here is safe_ , Woojin keeps telling himself, repeating the words like a mantra, like a spell, even as he clutches the cellphone closer to his chest, _the Closet is safe, he can’t get us here._

 

He reaches out and blindly pulls one of his mother’s shirts closer, burying his face into the fabric, searching desperately for a hint of her perfume but finding nothing but the scent of generic detergent. Still, Woojin clutches the worn fabric closer as he hears the sound of loud footsteps and the shout of his mother’s name. His breath hitches - the stranger, he’s here.

 

Woojin scoots forward in the tight space of the Closet, about to open the doors, hoping to hear better but his hand freezes as it rests against those wooden doors, the arms of his age-old protector creaking lowly as he contemplates leaving its embrace.

 

 _No_.

 

No, he shouldn’t leave, mom told him to hide with Daehwi. He needed to stay here in the Closet. She told him before so many times: stay in the Closet until she comes to get him and don’t come out no matter what. The Closet was safe.

 

 _Mom will come_ , Woojin closed his eyes and held his brother a little bit tighter, _they just needed to wait patiently for her._

 

He only wishes mom could have come into the Closet with them, then they would all be safe together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The door is shut firmly, the only door in the tiny apartment that was still closed, and it was a scant few meters away. Daniel takes two steps towards it before Seongwoo snags his hand and tugs lightly, shaking his head, eyes gesturing silently towards their hands and Daniel looks down, puzzled.

 

 _Oh_.

 

He stares at the dried blood caked into both their hands; Seongwoo’s in particular are completely covered from when he tried his best to staunch Dahee’s head wound. Daniel lets out a shaky exhale - they should wash their hands before they scared the children, they didn’t need to see that. He looks down at the puddle of blood beneath the feet that bled into shattered glass and gulps.

 

They didn’t need to see any of this.

 

He stumbles his way into the bathroom, Seongwoo at his side, the two of them washing their hands, jostling each other by accident, unfamiliar with sharing space with the other, but they make it work. Daniel glances at Seongwoo’s slacks as the other man dries his hands on his pants, taking in the darker patch in the slate grey material where blood had likely stained the fabric forever. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out, and the older man looking at him curiously, “For dragging you into this when we were supposed to be on a date.”

 

Seongwoo shakes his head, exhaling through his nose before he hesitantly reaches out to pat Daniel’s hands, palms still slightly damp, “You don’t need to apologize for doing the right thing, I just hope everything turns out alright. Let’s…let’s go find the kids, the police will need to know too.”

 

The older man pauses for a moment to visibly compose himself and then flashes Daniel a wan smile, “Let’s focus on the kids and could we, um…talk, after?”

 

He must have read something in Daniel’s expression because Seongwoo takes two hurried steps forward to clasp his hands around Daniel’s elbows, expression open and soothing, “Hey hey, it’s nothing bad okay? I just, this was a rather traumatic and sudden event, I know you’re a nurse so maybe you’re more used to critical situations, but this is out of my depth and I would appreciate if we could talk things through after.”

 

“Oh,” Daniel smiles weakly, the worry he hadn’t even been aware had bubbled up in his chest dissipating, “Yeah, talking is. Good, um, I guess I owe you an explanation anyways.”

 

Seongwoo shook his head as they exited the washroom, “I’d like an explanation but you don’t _have_ to tell me everything…or anything that betrays someone else’s confidence.”

 

He pushes Daniel towards the door gently. “Go check on the kids, it’s been a long time and they must be scared. I’m going to,“ he gestures at the floor, reaching for the last two towels from the stack he appropriated from the washroom previously, “clean up a bit.”

 

“Okay,” Daniel nods, hesitating still at the door, glancing behind him at the tinkling scrapping sound to see Seongwoo starting to sweep glass shards into a pile with a makeshift broom.

 

He turns the knob to find it locked and curses. To his surprise though, a few jiggles of the knob yields a click and then the knob is turning and he pushes only for the door to shift a measly two centimetres before hitting something on the other side with a dull thud. A knot he hadn’t even been aware of in his chest loosens; smart kid, blocking the door when the lock is faulty. This meant that they were probably still safe right? He steadfastly refuses to let his thoughts wander, not wanting to dwell on the sickening realization that life had forced Woojin to learn how to protect himself and his brother like this. Instead he clears his throat and calls into the room, trying to see through the small gap but getting nothing in the dimly lit space.

 

“Woojin?” he tries for a soft, unassuming tone, “Woojin, this is Daniel, we spoke on the phone. It’s safe now, will you come out please?”

 

Silence. Okay, alright, he was going to have to work for it then.

 

“I promise that whoever hurt you and your mom is gone,” he continues on, “I promise. I promised your mother I’d make sure you and your brother are okay. If you don’t want to come out right now, can you make a noise or answer so that I know you guys are still alright? Please?”

 

Long minutes crawl by (or was it seconds?) before he gets a soft tap and Daniel heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you Woojin. I’m glad you guys are alright. Are you sure you don’t want to come out? I’d love to meet you guys and I want to make extra sure that you guys are okay. Please, I just want to help.”

 

Nothing still and Daniel tries again. “I know I’m a stranger and that’s pretty scary, isn’t it? What…what about I tell you a bit about myself? How does that sound?”

 

There’s no acknowledgement but Daniel runs with it anyways, speaking into the silence of the room about his favourite colour and the last movie he watched. He tells them his hobbies, how much he loves eating gummy candies, how he’s scared of his dentist who always scolds him for eating too much sugar. He’s in the middle of telling them about the third cat he’s recently brought home, a rescue he named Ori, when a wary little voice calls out.

 

“Where’s mom? She said to hide until she came, where is she?”

 

Daniel clears his throat, voice a little strained from talking so much, licking his lips as he blinks rapidly, images of Dahee’s blood matted hair fanned out around her head like a macabre halo flashing through his mind. “Dahee, uh, your mother had to go to the hospital,” he says, deciding to go a watered-down truth, “She was hurt and now she needs doctors to help her get better.”

 

“Is she okay? Can you take us to her?”

 

“We can go find her if you come out,” Daniel promises, “The nice police officers are on their way here and they might have some questions for you first, but we can definitely go to the hospital after.”

 

There’s a pause and then the creaking of old wood and un-oiled hinges sound as the doors to something swings open - a dresser? a closet? “Daehwi, Daehwi, wake up,” he hears even as the coltish legs of a six year old boy swings out, a streak of pale skin in the dark room, “Wake up, we have to go find mom.”

 

Daniel watches with bated breathe as the six year old scrambles down from where he had been hiding, pulling a smaller child out behind him, making for the door cautiously, keeping his brother behind him at all times. He stops just a little short of the door, close enough for Daniel to really see him now, that pale little face with large eyes questioning and just a little fearful.

 

“Hi,” Daniel gives a little wave with his hand through the crack.

 

“Do you _promise_ that you’ll take us to mom?” Woojin asks, suspicious still and Daniel nods quickly.

 

“I promise we’ll take you to your mother. My, um, my friend is here with me too, he was the one who drove me here. I forgot to tell you, but I promise he’s nice.”

 

Woojin searches his face for falsehoods, bony shoulders tense, jaw set in a stubborn mulish jut before he nods decisively and the throws his tiny body against the dresser until it slides slowly out of the way. Daniel waits with bated breath for Woojin to open the door himself, taking a few steps back hastily as the door finally slowly swings open fully and the boys shuffle out tentatively. Woojin’s young brother isn’t that much shorter than him despite the age difference, almost coming up to the six year old’s shoulders, but he’s hunched over completely, fingers clenched desperately in the fabric of his brother’s t-shirt, face hidden from view, pressing close.

 

“I want to see mom,” Woojin declares, voice shaking no matter how hard the child tries to keep it steady and Daniel’s heart aches for him.

 

Just then, there’s a firm knock on the door and both boys stiffen; Woojin looks two seconds from bolting back into the room and Daehwi goes as still as a statue. “This is the police,” a muffled voice filters through, “We received a report that there was a disturbance in this unit, please open the door or we will be forced to break it down.”

 

Daniel looks between the door and the boys, grateful again when Seongwoo emerges from the kitchen, stained rag in hand, making eye contact with Daniel before nodding and heading to go get the door. He crouches down next to the boys, “Don’t be scared, that’s the nice police officers here to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

 

“I want mom,” Woojin repeats, voice thin and visibly shaking now, eyes blown wide and skin much too pale to be healthy, and Daniel curses himself for forgetting about shock.

 

He lurches forward to steady the six year old as the child’s legs give out, snagging Seongwoo’s abandoned suit jacket from where it had been draped over a chair and wrapping that around the child as he laid him down into a prone position. Seongwoo returns to the room as he’s looking around to see if there’s anything else in the area he can use, Daehwi curled in a fetal position near his brother, tiny fingers trapping the corner of the six year old’s sleeve in a death grip.

 

The officers are immediately on high alert, both male, and Daehwi takes one look at their muscular builds and scrambles to hide behind the couch. “He’s in shock,” Daniel is quick to tell his audience, keeping two fingers on the boy’s pulse, “Seongwoo can you hand me one of the cushions?”

 

The other man hurries to comply, watching as Daniel props Woojin’s legs up on top, categorizing everything with a forcibly neutral gaze, trying his best not to react to the welts on the boys’ palms that are turned up clearly for the world to see. “Does he need to go to the hospital?” the older man asks.

 

“That would be best.”

 

“Are you trained in first aid?” one of the officers ask, concerned, crouching to get down to their level.

 

“I’m a nurse,” Daniel flashes a wan smile, “I have my license in my wallet if you need to check it.”

 

“That’s fine,” the offer dismisses the offer, nodding in his direction in lieu of a handshake, “I’m Officer Kim, were you the one who called this in?”

 

“I did on his behalf,” Seongwoo interjected softly, watching with wary eyes as the other officer rounds the side of the couch to try and get to Daehwi, “Wait-”

 

The child scrambles away from the reaching hands immediately, eyes wide with terror as they dart around the room, looking for escape routes. He looks at where Woojin lays, surrounded by two large men, gives a despairing look at the kitchen and bedroom that are cut off to him by the officer’s positioning and then alights on Seongwoo who is standing in the middle of the living room. Something clicks in his head and Daehwi sprints as fast as his short legs can carry him towards the least threatening figure in the room (the man who is tall but thin, the man who doesn’t look anything like Father at all), small hands coming to clutch Seongwoo’s slacks as he hides his face in the bewildered man’s knees.

 

The officer takes a couple of steps towards them, moving to take the child off of Seongwoo and Seongwoo reaches out a hand to shield the child instinctively. “Stop,” he lays a careful hand on a trembling shoulder, “You’re scaring him.”

 

“Stand down, rookie,” the other officer snaps out quickly, glaring at his partner, “Jesus, what do they teach you in the academy these days? Back off, make a call in for an ambulance to be sent.”

 

“But-”

 

“No buts,” the senior officer’s voice is hard as he takes in the way the terrified three year old had now completely wrapped himself around Seongwoo’s leg and hidden himself behind the man as much as possible, “Make the call, and we’re going to _talk_ once we’re back at the station.”

 

“Now,” he turns back to Daniel, mouth set in a severe line, “Please tell me what happened.”

 


End file.
